


Say Something Nice (Don't Say Anything at All)

by summerofspock



Series: Accumulation (The Life and Times of Crowley's Facial Hair) [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Getting Back Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Sex, crowley has a beard in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25168456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: The world doesn't end and Aziraphale thinks he and Crowley will finally be together.Except the demon is busy sulking and Aziraphale needs to have a few epiphanies first.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Accumulation (The Life and Times of Crowley's Facial Hair) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742881
Comments: 45
Kudos: 476





	Say Something Nice (Don't Say Anything at All)

**Author's Note:**

> the final installment of Crowley's facial hair through the ages! enjoy!
> 
> s/o to the GO Events server for supporting me through this silly series and my wet and messy facial hair kink. Let's all let our freak flags fly.

They went to the Ritz. That was where they celebrated everything big. Aziraphale thought this might be the biggest thou. Thwarted apocalypse. He liked the sound of it.

Crowley was all pleased smiles and soft words as they shared champagne and Aziraphale  _ basked _ in it. It felt like a promise.  _ Just me and you. Our side _ . 

They hadn't slept together in decades. Not since that night in the 70s, under the harsh bathroom light reflected in the mirror. Aziraphale had put the offer on the metaphorical table more than once. ( _ Come to mine. You could stay, if you wanted _ ). But Crowley always declined. Aziraphale thought it might have been for the best, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

And when their lunch wound into dinner and into drinks, Aziraphale said it again, “You could come back to mine.”

Crowley paused and put his port back on the table. The bottom of Aziraphale’s stomach dropped out. He wished he could stuff the suggestion back into his mouth, wash down the bitter taste with his sweet wine.

Crowley shrugged with practiced nonchalance that struck Aziraphale like a physical blow. “Nah. Bit tired. We’ve had quite a week. I think I’ll take a nap.”

Aziraphale swallowed hard and looked anywhere but at Crowley. “I suppose that makes a great deal of sense. Don’t sleep forever though. I’d hate to go too long without seeing you.”

That seemed to be the utterly wrong thing to say because Crowley’s mouth dipped into a deep U. “Right. Wouldn’t want that.”

Aziraphale had no idea what to say and when they parted ways outside the restaurant, he was still at a loss for words. Crowley was no help whatsoever, drifting off with a sharp wave and an even sharper frown. 

And so, Aziraphale returned to his bookshop and got to work. Cataloguing needed to be done and he had a handful of older tomes he desperately wanted to start restoring. There were always things to do. 

Despite that, Aziraphale found himself starting every time the bell above the door chimed, expecting Crowley to swagger inside. 

He never did.

Weeks passed and then a month became two and Aziraphale started to worry. In the grand scheme of things, they had gone longer without seeing each other but that was because of assignments and subterfuge. They were free now and Aziraphale had thought…

He had thought Crowley loved him. He’d said as much. All those years ago. Crowley had bit the words into his mouth.  _ I love you _ .

He had never said them again.

Perhaps Aziraphale should go visit Crowley. A relationship was a two way street and even though Crowley was  _ usually  _ the instigator, that didn’t mean Aziraphale  _ couldn’t _ go visit him. 

Aziraphale realized he was pacing, crossing back and forth underneath the dome of his bookshop and going nowhere at all. 

Crowley had said he loved him. Aziraphale had lived in that truth for decades. What if...what if that had changed?

Aziraphale hadn't said it back. He should have said it back. What was he afraid of?

Heaven was his knee jerk response but in the aftermath of an Armageddon-that-wasn't, Aziraphale was having to contend with the fact that he had been lying to himself for centuries. What was the difference between saying the words and feeling them? Why would saying he loved Crowley be any worse than making love to him? 

_ Because the things you love are taken away from you. _

He paused in his back and forth pace of the bookshop and dropped his hands from where he'd been wringing them in front of him.

That was...that was terribly, awfully true.

In the early days, what had he done? Befriended the humans, lived among them, loved them. And what had happened? They'd been destroyed without ceremony.

He'd loved his books at the library of Alexandria and fire had stolen those. He’d held deep platonic love for so many humans and they died just like everyone else.

And Crowley? He couldn't bear to have him taken away because Aziraphale was foolish enough to need him. To love him. Another thing for the world— for Heaven— to take away.

Aziraphale pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and sucked in a shuddering breath. He was going to cry. No. He didn't cry. He never cried. Stiff upper lip and all that.

What had his behavior brought him? Nothing. Hurt for him and hurt for Crowley who had just  _ waited _ . Who had been there for him through it all. Who has only ever looked at him softly and said  _ you can stay at my place _ .

Legs shaking, Aziraphale lowered himself into his desk chair. Crowley still loved him. Surely. It may have been nearly fifty years but Crowley had never left. They were friends. Best friends. He said that. In the pub. They were friends. 

Aziraphle blinked several times to clear the stinging from his eyes. 

He needed to go see Crowley and the only thing stopping him was himself.

**

Not caring for pleasantries, Aziraphale miracled himself directly outside Crowley’s door. He would have miracled straight inside but that seemed a bit rude.

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale tugged on his waistcoat, smoothing it down a final time before knocking on the door.

“Crowley,” he called, very proud when his voice didn’t shake. “It’s me.”

The door tugged open and there was Crowley. Aziraphale bit back a gasp. He looked  _ dreadful _ .

Just in sleep pants, his bare chest looked pale and stark in the austere light of his flat. His eyes were bloodshot and he had a  _ beard _ , if you could call the patchy scruff coming in all over his cheeks and chin a beard. Crowley scrubbed a hand over his face and frowned. “Angel, what are you doing here?”

Aziraphale tried not to stare at Crowley’s chest which was admittedly very appealing and said, “I believe we need to talk. You haven’t been by the shop in months.”

“You haven’t been by my flat,” Crowley retorted mockingly. Aziraphale almost replied in kind but stopped himself. He wanted to talk, not exchange pointless jibes.

“May I come in?” 

Crowley stepped aside and gestured widely. Slipping inside the flat, Aziraphale glanced around and saw a handful of liquor bottles on Crowley’s desk. Some half empty but most of them drained. He looked back at Crowley and realized he was hungover.

“Have you spent the last two months drinking?” Aziraphale asked sharply. Crowley rolled his eyes in response.

“I can do what I want, angel.”

“You look dreadful. You might be immortal but you have to take care of yourself,” Aziraphale admonished, bullying Crowley into the kitchen so he could force him to drink a glass of water.

“Thanks ever so,” Crowley said loftily when Aziraphale pushed him onto a barstool. 

“You  _ know _ what I mean,” Aziraphale said. He handed Crowley a drink and waited for him to drink it. The demon made a big show of it, dramatically sipping and smacking his lips.

It was incredibly irritating and all Aziraphale could think was how much he missed him.

“I love you,” he blurted out. It had been on the tip of his tongue since he’d stepped inside and he couldn’t hold it in for another moment.

Crowley dropped the cup. The glass shattered over Aziraphale’s feet, a few pieces skittering off into the kitchen. 

“What?” 

“You said it. A long time ago. And I didn’t say it back. I understand if you no longer…” Aziraphale swallowed around the lump steadily forming in his throat. “I understand if you no longer feel that way, but I wanted you to know.”

Crowley brought his feet up onto the stool and curled into a ball, forehead dropping to his knees as he exhaled long and low. “You couldn’t have said that a few months ago?”

Aziraphale frowned. “What?”

“I just spent the last two months  _ moping _ because you basically asked me to shag after the Ritz and then sent me off when I said no and I was trying to, you know, stuff it all back down so we could go back to being friends. I thought— I thought, what with Heaven off your back, you’d actually  _ say _ something and then you didn’t and I — “

Aziraphale couldn’t stand it. He surged forward and wrapped his arms around Crowley, knees and all. Crowley made a strange sound somewhere between a squeak and a cough and unfurled himself. Tucking his nose into Crowley’s neck, Aziraphale breathed him in. It was the sharp smell of snuffed matches, the earthy scent of charcoal. Aziraphale was certain he would cry and how deeply comforting it felt. Like home.

“It wasn’t just Heaven. I...it was me. I was afraid,” Aziraphale said, holding Crowley tighter. His skin was warm under his hands, so familiar even after all these years. 

“It’s alright. Don’t cry,” Crowley said, holding him just as tight. Aziraphale realized tears were trickling down his face, sliding down Crowley’s bare shoulders. 

Crowley pulled back and took Aziraphale’s face in his hands. Their eyes locked for the barest moment before Crowley closed the distance and kissed him softly. His half-grown facial hair scraped over Aziraphale’s chin and he shivered, lips parting on instinct so Crowley could deepen the kiss.

Goosebumps rose under Aziraphale’s hands where they had come to rest on Crowley’s sides. He dropped them to Crowley’s hips, fitting the hard angles into his palms and squeezing. Crowley gasped into his mouth. 

“I missed this,” he said, nuzzled down Aziraphale’s chin as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

Aziraphale clutched at his unkempt hair and let himself sink into the delicious sensation of Crowley’s mouth on his chest. 

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he said, grasping Crowley’s bottom and lifting him.

“What?” Crowley asked, confused as he pulled back from where he’d been sucking a mark into Aziraphale’s throat.

“Just do it,” Aziraphale said. “There’s glass on the ground and you’re not wearing shoes.”

Crowley obeyed and Aziraphale very happily had a handful of demon that he carried to the bedroom. There was no smooth way to get Crowley on the bed so he dropped him. Crowley yelped and smacked his hip. 

“Rude!”

Aziraphale tugged off his shirt and undershirt and pressed Crowley back against the pillows. He was so ridiculous and Aziraphale’s heart was very full. “I love you.”

Crowley smiled into their kiss and Aziraphale’s heart beat so loud he was certain God could hear it. But he probably shouldn’t be thinking about God while in bed with a demon.

Oh well, too late.

Aziraphale fully intended to make this entirely about Crowley, but found himself on his back before he could even remove Crowley’s pajama bottoms. 

His trousers disappeared somewhere alongside his pants and socks and Crowley seemed very pleased to have him fully nude in his bed if the hungry look on his face was anything to go by. He made a noise low in his throat as he traced the line of Aziraphale’s thigh, squeezing the flesh there. 

“This is pretty,” Crowley said, sliding his hand between Aziraphale’s thighs and ghosting them over his outer lips. He gasped at the slight sensation, something hot stirring in his belly. “I thought you didn’t like this equipment.”

Aziraphale’s face grew hot. “Well, Heaven’s not exactly forcing me to fill out body modification forms. I’ve been experimenting.”

Crowley grinned, a wicked thing. “Oh, really. Do I get to experiment too?”

His fingers dipped just inside and Aziraphale’s hips jumped. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d had this equipment when he and Crowley made love. Crowley, on the other hand, changed frequently, but seemed to prefer a penis. Or maybe that was because Aziraphale liked being fucked so much. 

“You’re thinking a lot,” Crowley said, coming up to brace himself on one hand as he continued to slowly move the other between Aziraphale’s legs.

Aziraphale squirmed, pressing down against his fingers. “Make me stop, then.”

Crowley apparently took the directive to heart. Before Aziraphale could blink, he was being kissed, deep and thorough enough that he thought he might melt into the bed. Then hot kisses trailed down his chest, beard scraping over the sensitive skin of his belly, teeth nipping at his thighs before Crowley pressed his legs apart and settled between them. 

And stop thinking he did. Crowley’s mouth was on him for what felt like forever, licking him until his thighs were shaking. At some point, two fingers slipped inside him, stroking over something that had sparks shooting down his spine, the muscles in his body going tight. Crowley’s beard rubbed against his thighs, scratched between his legs in a way that only sent him higher, closer to his peak.

When Crowley finally pulled his clit between his teeth to suck lightly, Aziraphale’s hand sank into his hair to hold him in place. “Oh, Crowley, oh,” he moaned, hips jerking of their own accord as he pressed into Crowley’s face.

The fingers inside him pressed deeper, fucking him faster and that was it. The pleasure inside him shattered, rippling out so that the very tips of his toes tingled. His back arched and he tugged at Crowley’s hair until he relented.

“Please. Inside me. I want you inside me,” Aziraphale gasped, reaching for every part of Crowley he could touch. He ached with the impact of his orgasm and he wanted more. 

Crowley pressed up his body and kissed him, the slickness of his mouth tasting of Aziraphale’s pleasure as their tongues slid together. Pulling away, Crowley rose onto his knees and grasped his cock in his hand. Aziraphale’s mouth watered at the sight. He’d had Crowley in his mouth dozens of times, had him spend down his throat gasping his name. Now he could have that any time he wanted. They loved each other. They were together.

Aziraphale gasped when Crowley pressed the head of his cock up against his aching clit, rubbing against him once, twice, until his cunt was clenching around nothing, begging for more. Finally, Crowley slipped inside him. He fell forward onto his hands and breathed out Aziraphale’s name. Aziraphale could hardly respond. He felt so full, so utterly loved.

“Fuck, I love you,” Crowley said as they began to move together, each roll of Crowley’s hips met with one of Aziraphale’s. 

Aziraphale cried out, entirely too far gone to say anything whatsoever, just clutching at Crowley’s back, scrabbling with his nails and surely leaving marks behind. He had missed this. He had missed  _ Crowley _ .

Before Aziraphale could sink into the rhythm, chase his second release, Crowley’s hips stuttered and he dropped his face to Aziraphale’s shoulder as he groaned. Oh.  _ Oh. _

“Shit, sorry. It’s been...well, it’s been fifty years,” he said into Aziraphale’s skin. It wasn’t as if Aziraphale cared that Crowley came a little quickly.

“It’s quite alright, my dear. We have all the time in the world,” Aziraphale said. He ran his hand down between Crowley’s shoulderblades the way he knew he liked. Sure enough, Crowley shivered at the contact before rising up and pulling out. 

Aziraphale felt his own slick and Crowley’s spend drip down between his legs. He shifted uncomfortably. Before he could miracle it all away, Crowley said, “Now, now. Just because I came doesn’t mean we’re  _ done _ . You’ve got the multi-orgasm genitals. We’re doing multiple orgasms.”

Aziraphale thought to say something smart in response, but it was lost to the tickle of Crowley’s beard on his thighs and the pleasure of his mouth.

He resolved to come up with a suitable retort later. For now, he’d just enjoy himself.

Crowley certainly seemed to and Aziraphale wasn't about to ruin his fun.


End file.
